


Fruits Born of a Tree Called Despair

by ParodiaTheSilent



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Pedophilia, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-04-13 20:44:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParodiaTheSilent/pseuds/ParodiaTheSilent
Summary: In which somebody suffering from the smallest bit of self-induced insanity dies and is reborn in the Naruto universe. Again. And again and again and again and again and again.In which somebody who loves the thought of despair wishes to bring it upon the world. If only because it'll make life that much more... amusing.In which somebody remembers exactly why they deserve all of this.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, don't own Naruto guys.  
> Expect slow updates; I'll try to be better.

There were few sociable Konoha shinobi who had yet to step foot in Nagito's shop. Saying it was Nagito's, however, gave the impression that he had started it from scratch. That, of course, was wrong; the shop had been opened by an ancestor of Nagito's during the founding of the village.

Kishimoto Yosuke, he had called himself and laughed whenever he was addressed as 'Kishimoto-san'. To most, he was "a civilian who constantly saw fit to interfere in matters beyond his understanding."

He had laughed whenever somebody told him that. Very rarely had he spoken with those that disapproved of his brand of humor; there were those that found it rather annoying, but they'd caught on rather quickly that he'd never stop.

Some had believed Yosuke to be a spy or saboteur of some sort. With an attitude that constantly garnered the attention of the passerby and a silver tongue that had gotten him out of— and into— so many different brands of trouble that it had long since stopped being funny. In addition to that, Yosuke's little stall sold next to nothing and regardless of that, he had never moved it an inch.

Everyone was left to speculate eternally because only a few weeks after Senju Hashirama was given the official title of Hokage he had vanished. It was— correctly— assumed that he had died so his stall was scrapped and his goods pilfered by the local riff-raff. Eventually, the empty space was taken by a legitimate shop that specialized in weapons.

The 'situation'— because it had not  _been_ a situation until it was muddled up— became complicated at six years afterward when a boy of five years was found shouting at the owner of the weapons shop. Eventually, the child was dragged away and forced to explain to an amused Uchiha why exactly he'd deemed it necessary to engage the shopkeep in a one-sided shouting match.

When the brat told the Uchiha woman that his father's shop used to be there, she resisted the urge to give the kid a good smack then and there, instead, asking where exactly his father was— and she was quite certain of the answer.

After she had almost forced the child to come to her home and sat him down with a meal, she went to fetch her husband to explain the situation. The two had finished their conversation quickly and made to confront the boy. When they did, the very first thing they had asked of him was his name.

Kishimoto Yu.

Suddenly it had become well known amongst civilians and a smaller group of shinobi that Yosuke had an unknown son whose birth seemed to coincide with his own disappearance. Such a thing raised questions. Among those was the question of a mother. Nobody had seen Yosuke outside of his job— most were of the belief that he did not actually leave the little stand— and they  _certainly_  had not seen him chatting up any women.

As easy as it would have been to simply ignore the child's words, for those who had known Yosuke, it was very obvious that Yu shared far too many of his traits for it to be a simple coincidence.

Sure enough, once Yu was of an appropriate age, he set up his own shop and let things take their course from there, offering companionship to anybody who decided to stop by.

Thus, the cycle continued; whenever a Kishimoto died, in six more years another son would take his place. It was noted that there were only sons. No siblings or such to speak of, let alone a mother that they had seen.

And there were those who'd lived long enough to have been exposed to the earlier sons of the Kishimoto line, who would say that with every generation, the Kishimoto boys were smiling less than their ancestors ever did.

That all comes back to Nagito, the most recent of line— note  _line_  because there were no offshoots; one child  _every time_ — who was trying his very best to keep his shop running.

He could have taken the simple route and claimed the Yondaime's reign was the cause for his newfound financial struggles but he had known that running a shop that sold hard-to-get items that were 'hard to get' simply because people did not want them and thus said items were rarely made, was likely the worst idea he had ever come up with— he was selling junk, essentially.

It was not that he thought the Yondaime sucked at his job— because he really was not considering the village had come out a war a decade and was still standing— but he just did not like the Yondaime in general. It had nothing to do with man's personality and he was sure of that because he had tolerated Minato just fine when the blonde was a child.

Of course, by now Nagito had tried his best to make sure that the name Kishimoto was not even  _whispered_  in the streets and that he had faded completely into obscurity so it was not as if he had to deal with Minato recently.

Uzumaki Kushina was another problem entirely.

Somehow, the girl had gotten it in her head that because they'd spoken to each other as children— far more often than he would like to admit— that made them obligatory friends and because she was older than him she treated him like an estranged little brother who was socially stunted. He was certain that she was aware of how distasteful he found it.

Perhaps it had been his own fault for letting his obvio—

He was choking on the air. For a breath moment, he believed himself to be having a stroke until he had realized it was  _chakra_  he was choking on. Disgustingly familiar chakra.

Nagito walked out from behind his counter and took a few wobbly steps outside of his shop. Turning his eyes to the sky, he was met with the all too close form of the Kyūbi no Yōko.

"Oh dear; it's the tenth of October, isn't it?" Now that he was actually paying attention, he could feel the earth shaking beneath his feet.

He let out a sigh. He was so damned  _tired._ He stretched his arms over his head and let them fall to his sides before he walked back into his shop, pulling his futon from underneath the counter. Unrolling it on the floor and slipping inside, he tried his best to relax. Silently, he sent out hope for at least ten minutes of sleep.

Not five minutes later, his shop was crushed under an errant limb of the Kyūbi.

Somewhere in the civilian sector, an evacuation was taking place. A lone woman who had awoken a bit later than she should have and had fallen to the back of the pack came across an infant in the shadow of a collapsed building. The lady was sure that the infant's cries had garnered  _somebody's_  attention but as it were, only she had taken notice.

After a brief moment of hesitation and a few tentative steps forward, she ran the rest of the way and scooped the baby into her arms before moving back onto the evacuation route with a bit more urgency in her step.

* * *

Three months after the Kyūbi attack, an infant was dropped off at the orphanage.

It came as no surprise to the baby girl; she could not expect a lady who had picked her up off streets in a fit of whimsy, to raise as she would her own child. Though, if her memory served her, staying in the orphanage was far from optimal.

It was a few hours before she was picked up from where she'd been left— because the lady who had left her there had not had the courtesy to knock. When one of the caretakers finally became aware of her she was cold, hungry, and had likely soiled the blanket she'd been bundled in twice-over. The last was only vaguely irritating in a manner reminiscent of a monotonous job done for survival's sake.

As she was picked up— the caretaker gave a restrained look of disgust as she touched a particularly wet spot on the blanket— she idly wondered if the caretakers would find her odd. She had been far from idle in the three months since her birth and she was certain it had shown. Accessing her chakra as an infant had been child's play but she had just as quickly found there was a reason that a child's chakra network wouldn't fully develop for years.

One's Yang chakra— or physical energy— could be directly affected by one's body; hence the physical conditioning all shinobi must endure. The opposite is true as well, seen as shinobi using Yang chakra to supplement their strength. This, however, is only viable in a body where the chakra coils have developed to an appropriate degree, in order to prevent significant damage. Undirected Yang chakra in an infant would almost certainly result in death. _Controlled_  and  _directed_  Yang chakra would decrease the chances of death by an amount that was easily disregarded.

This particular infant had been experimenting with her Yang chakra as soon as she'd been able to dredge any into existence. She couldn't really channel her chakra through undeveloped coils without splitting them wide open and killing herself. So she channeled chakra directly through her body whenever she intended to use it. An equally dangerous solution, but at the very least, it wouldn't be fatal if she forced too much through her body. Not as if she had that much to call upon.

The effects the chakra had on her body were both underwhelming and distressing.

The first signs that anything strange had been happening had been a month prior. Exercising constant control over her chakra was a tiring affair and she had taken to sleeping as much as possible when she was not being fed or some other such thing of importance. It was upon awakening from one of these naps that she found it considerably easier to move about and soon enough she had begun crawling about the floor. It took about two seconds to realize the impossibility of that before she disregarded that as well.

The next problem rather quickly after that. She began teething and within two weeks, the first of her milk teeth had come in. It was  _sharp_.

Now, a little less than a month later, she had five separate teeth in her little three-month-old mouth: a cuspid, two molars on the right side of her mouth, and one of those teeth in the front that she did not know the name of.

So yes, she was quite worried that the matron and the others working in the orphanage would... What exactly did she believe they would do? Were they not technically obligated to take in an abandoned child? She was dropped on their doorstep, they could hardly toss her out. They would certainly wait until she could at least take care of herself before throwing out— not that she intended on staying past that point.

She was pulled from her musings— because she was far from  _truly_  worried about her state of affairs— when she was laid in a bed that she presumed to be located in the orphanage's nursery. The lady who brought her there— _dark hair darker eyes_ — left quickly, likely to tell the matron of the new arrival. Or had she already? Regardless, she left all the same and the baby girl was left to her own thoughts and the occasional cry of her fellow children.

* * *

Perhaps he had always been there or he had only just arrived but suddenly the little girl was all too aware of the boy she knew to be Uzumaki Naruto.

His little bed or whatever it was called was beside her own and at first, she had thought it would not have been a problem. Unfortunately, she lacked the ability to truly ignore something once it gained her attention and for this, she suffered.

The boy was loud. He had a pair of lungs on him that never seemed to give out. A few times, he screamed himself raw— for Kaguya knows what reason— and after a few minutes he would set back to it. She was sure that if Naruto was not who he was, they would have called him a 'spirited baby' but she was rather sure it was the Kyūbi's fault.

It was particularly annoying for the caretakers because he disturbed almost every baby in the room with his crying. In response to his excessive noise, a few of the caretakers—  _the Sandaime must have made the announcement already_ — used a bit unnecessary force to quiet him. The first time a caretaker laid a hand Naruto with ill intent, the girl nailed her with a glare. She may have despised children but she hated  _abusing_ children more.

Within a week, she heard whispers that they had "placed the demon boy next to the girl with a demon's eyes."

She could have made something of that— the two of them could have  _become_  something— but she refused it.

Uzumaki Naruto would gain the strength to imprison gods. She would  _not_  limit her own strength by attaching herself to him and  _supporting_ him.

She wanted to surpass the boy who would grow into somebody who could make friends out of enemies because he understood their pain.

Most of all, she just did not like him.

* * *

At the age of one, she walked with a confidence that contradicted her age and spoke with a fluency that would put most adults to shame. Of course, nobody knew this.

Practicing in the dead of night was a simple enough endeavor. Walking was easy and she had perfected it within two months of her arrival at the orphanage, contrary to speaking which— despite knowing the language intimately— seemed to require some sort of instinct or reflex that she lacked and therefore needed to remake. It hardly mattered; after living but a year, she'd gotten a handle on speaking.

Now she took to pushing her chakra through her coils, a task that was very painful, to say the least. In her efforts to prevent any permanent damage, she'd made it instinctual to channel chakra through herself forming a sort of pseudo network, leaving her coils unaccustomed to her chakra.

It  _burned_  when she finally released her hold.

But that was okay. She had plenty of time to get used to it.

* * *

She must have looked strange to caretakers.

A little girl who trailed her nails— she noted that they were soon to be akin to claws with how thick they had grown; likely another disturbing effect of her experimentation— along the wall and never spoke unless spoken to. A head of forest green hair that contrasted disturbingly with her eyes. She always kept a fair distance from the other children, shooting them glances whenever one got too close or spoke too loud. Yes, she must have seemed strange.

She was going to be two the next day.

She had spent the last year practicing her chakra control and making sure that her coils were developing properly. While she had wanted to start training her body at the same time, she was not willing to stunt her growth for a head start in her future career.

So, as she continued her walk along the walls, she focused on her core and spun her chakra in spirals, constantly reversing directions.

Dimly, she noted that it would be Naruto's birthday the next day.

_'Perhaps I'll write him a card. And get him a present as well.'_

* * *

When she turned three, she left the orphanage.


	2. Reap

 

Idly, a girl wandered the alleys of Konoha. She had no destination in mind, only waltzing where her feet took her.

 _'This is **stupid** '_, a part of her hissed.

She frowned— and it was really more of a pout. It wasn't  _her_  fault that she was on the streets; she wasn't exactly certain if it was  _still_ happening, but she knew Orochimaru and Danzō had at some point started snatching children from the orphanage. It was  _necessary_ to leave.

 _'This is frustrating'_ , another voice joined in.

She had to agree. The location of the orphanage was an incredible hindrance to any escape attempts, seeing as it was wedged somewhere between the shinobi and civilian districts. In addition to that, she surmised that the only reason the ANBU hadn't stopped her was that she was hardly the person they were supposed to be watching. Of course, it was wishful thinking to believe they hadn't noticed her experiments with chakra.

She took a seat next to a dumpster and let out a groan.

It was difficult to believe that Danzō hadn't heard about her  _somehow_  and that meant she'd have to lay low until she joined the Academy; snatching up a street urchin was a lot easier than taking orphans or students. Laying low implied either not training at all or actually trying to keep her training a secret. The first was unacceptable and the latter was almost impossible. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

 _'_ What _will we do in the meantime?'_  A third spoke up.

She let out a sigh as she leaned against the building that housed her in its shadow. What would she do indeed...

Long-term she planned to get strong but that was far too broad and was only possible if she was still alive; as much as she hated it she obviously couldn't risk enrolling at the Academy early. So first, she'd need to establish a secure place to live or at least somewhere she would be able to move about freely— or as freely as one could in a shinobi village. That meant she couldn't just waltz through the civilian district and hope nobody tried to take her in or send her to the orphanage. However, she also couldn't move too close to the clan compounds because of the small chance that there would be a bleeding heart that would try to take her in. Even if that  _didn't_ happen, there was still the chance that if she became a regular appearance who was always without parents or friends,  _somebody_ would notice and say something to somebody who  _would_  do something.

It was a collection of what if's and maybe's but they were all possibilities that would inconvenience her incredibly.

While being taken in by a shinobi clan— even one of the lesser clans— could possibly provide her any easy route to begin her training, she would almost be eternally subject to clan politics in regards to her simply being there. If she was in a larger clan, say the Hyūga or the Uchiha, they would have expectations she'd need to meet; with the Hyūga she wouldn't even be used as a breeding horse because whatever genes she had would ensure her children would look distinctly unlike the Hyūga. Even if appearance was unimportant, they'd be shoved into the Branch because they were half-bloods.

Being taken in by civilians would be infinitely less stressful but she was also far more likely to constantly be supervised. She had very little memory of what a family  _should_ be like but she was certain that civilian families— most of them, anyway— coddled there children far more than the shinobi clans did. If she happened to be taken in by a civilian clan she'd likely be expected to take up whatever business they were involved or be married off to another clan. Of course, she could always play the 'I want to keep otō-san and okā-san safe' card but she'd likely be unable to legitimately train until she was enrolled in the Academy. Even if she were taken in by shinobi from a civilian family, it was all too likely that they'd want to keep her from the 'horrors' of the shinobi world or whatever excuse they'd give.

So yes, being on her own— despite the dangers that came with it— was for the best. However, that also meant that the akasen was her best bet.

Despite how much she despised the idea of setting foot within the place, she knew far too well that it was likely the only place in the village that she'd be ignored almost entirely. If she did so happen to draw the wrong sort of attention within the borders of the akasen...

Well, they wouldn't hunt  _too_ hard for her if she killed somebody. Hopefully.

She straightened her back and brushed off her shirt— it was an awful yellow thing that was large enough to reach her knees— before setting off to find a place to set up.

* * *

The girl poked at a corpse in the darkness between buildings. This marked her first kill in this new life of her's and it was far from pleasant.

It wasn't the first time she'd killed somebody—  _incredibly_  far from it— but it wasn't her usual style. Her kills, while not  _planned_ , were premeditated in some manner before they were carried out. But  _no_ , some rapist prick ruined it all and ended up bringing back stupid memories that were best left in the darkest little corners of her mind to fester.

In truth, she blamed whatever was allowing  _all_  of this to happen, for making her so disgustingly cute. Hell, if she'd had her original body or  _any_  of her previous vessels for that matter, she would've—

Who was desperate enough to go after a three-year-old, anyways? He should've at least waited until she was like, seven.

It's wasn't like it was  _her_  fault he had lifted her up the way he had, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and pinning her arms at her side. He must've been surprised that she hadn't been screaming her head off. He'd made it so despairingly easy for her to simply tear apart his jugular and when he dropped her it was easier still to lunge at him with her chakra-enhanced strength and crush his throat in her teeth.

So she sat— hounded by a forgotten and familiar curiosity— over the corpse of her would be torturer, face frozen in some combination of mirth and irritation.

 _'We could eat him, ya know.'_  A particularly giddy voice spoke up this time.  _'Just like we always dreamed.'_

And that was her first problem.

It  _had_  been a dream of hers— one so old she'd forgotten it among other things— to see what it was like to eat another human. She'd believed it to be a morbid curiosity, bound only to her formative years, and now it had resurfaced when the likelihood that she'd have to face the consequences were small. The chances this man was a ninja were indescribably small barring the possibility that he was the world's most worthless genin. This meant that the shinobi would have little reason to bother investigating the man's death. Even if he had family that cared for him, the chances of this being traced to her were— again— small. All she'd have to do is wash off the blood and dirty herself up and she'd look like all the rest of the akasenko to anyone who looked.

_'There's no way we'll be caught. Just go ahead and do it.'_

That was, of course, working under the assumption that Anbu  _wasn't_ watching the little chakra protégé who came from an orphanage housing the Kyūbi jinchūriki. Though, it  _was_  possible that they passed her constantly fluctuating chakra off as that of an emotionally disturbed child. She sure acted the part.

Even disregarding the Anbu, that still left the problem of Konoha's Military Police. Wasn't it their  _job_  to deal with this kind of thing?

 _'Even if it were, the Uchiha are far too proud to roam the akasen thoroughly or for very long.'_  This time the voice was radiating with her own irritation. _'By the time they find the body rigor mortis will have set in or be well on its way to ending. At the very least.'_

The girl licked her lips, getting another taste of the blood that still lingered around her mouth. Another problem. She was tempting  _herself_  with these foolish arguments. She was  _arguing_  with herself over something that was her choice. If she was arguing so much for it, that could only mean that she truly wanted to do it— wanted to  _devour_  somebody.

She held back a growl before conceding; she'd argue herself to death about this. Best to just get it done and suffer the consequences later.

As she leaned over the corpse, locks of her hair fell into view before she brushed them away. There was something annoyingly familiar about the forest green mop on her head but it was hardly important now.

She sunk her teeth into the man's neck, taking a moment to run her tongue over the torn flesh. This time, instead of crushing his throat as she had the first time, she bit down and tore it free, messily chewing through the tough cartilage and periodically licking her lips before swallowing.

* * *

As the sun rose on the horizon, the girl settled into the space beneath a dumpster, her lips crusted with vomit, and slept.

* * *

She was frozen in place.

The girl had expected to run into Naruto _eventually_ ; it was a given, all things considered. She'd predicted how it would go as well. Maybe he'd be attacked in an alleyway by a drunkard or two and she'd come rescue him. Or maybe she'd secretly pay the bills for his constant excursions to Ichiraku's and one day just happen to be there when he showed up.

But true to form, she'd forgotten just how big a role Sarutobi Hiruzen— the  _Sandaime Hokage_ — played in the boy's life. Perhaps, if she'd remembered that, she wouldn't have been four years old, on her rear, and staring up into the eyes of the Sandaime after bumping into the Kyūbi jinchūriki.

She looked at the Sandaime with a mixture of irritation, fear, and resignation. She was certain he could see it all.

He knelt before her wearing a soft smile that only seemed to deepen his wrinkles. "Are you alright, little one?"

She nodded, far too quickly— too frantically— for her liking, and stood. Just behind the Sandaime, she could see Naruto— watching her nervously. He shrunk under her gaze. No that it mattered; her attention was drawn away from him.

"What's your name?" The Sandaime spoke in that grandfatherly tone that would probably set most children at ease but she distinctly remembered him fighting and almost  _killing_  Orochimaru in a fight that was heavily weighed against him.

Still, she allowed all the negative emotions nest themselves somewhere in her head before she beamed. "Junko is Junko," she said with a childish enthusiasm that came to her all too naturally. "Who're you, ossan?" She pointed behind him at Naruto. "an' who's he?"

The Sandaime stood and pushed Naruto forward, ignoring the boy's protests. Junko stared at him with wide-eyed curiosity until he turned away, frowning petulantly.

"Naruto. An' that's Jiji." There was a pause and then, as an afterthought, "Sorry 'bout knockin' you over."

Junko only nodded uncertainly before directing her attention to the looming form of the Hokage. "You're  _old_ , ossan," she accused.

A mirthful smile settled on his face. "Indeed I am." The Hokage ruffled Naruto's hair before speaking to him in a genial tone. "Come now, Naruto-kun. You wouldn't want to be late, would you?" The jinchūriki stared in confusion only to let out a shout of surprise moments later. He took off at a run only stopping to let the Hokage catch up to and giving Junko a farewell wave.

She waved back but resolved to avoid him for the next few years.

* * *

Behind his desk, Sarutobi Hiruzen nursed a small headache as he watched the village through his window.

He had known that accompanying Naruto to the Academy was giving the boy false hope. He couldn't do it often or at all lest he was called on favoritism and he knew it was something the Naruto desired. Yet, it would only be this one time for the foreseeable future.

Had it been an option would be easily accepted, he wouldn't have enrolled Naruto early but the Council had to have their weapon—  _Danzō_ had to have his weapon— and the only way to come close to satisfying any of them without handing the jinchūriki over to Danzō himself was to have him enrolled early so he'd be trained.

And inside, he too was aware that Konoha needed its jinchūriki.

So Hiruzen expected complications when he'd taken the boy to the Academy, mainly from civilian families enrolling their own children their or perhaps even the chūnin instructors.

What he had not expected was to run into a chakra powerhouse of a child who pretended not to recognize him.

"Tora."

Behind him, Hiruzen heard the masked operative land lightly on sandaled feet. "Hokage-sama."

"Should you come across a young girl with dark green hair and slitted red eyes, have her followed if possible."

The operative shifted. "Hokage-sama?"

"It is merely a precaution," Hiruzen spoke, answering an unasked question. "Should you discover anything of note, however, you will present the information to me in a timely manner"

"Hai, Hokage-sama." A minute burst of chakra signaled Tora's departure and Sarutobi allowed himself a drag of his pipe.


	3. Repeat

Junko let out a hiss of discomfort as she coaxed her chakra through her coils.

When she'd circumvented the problem that had been her undeveloped chakra coils, she knew that there would be risks involved. When she'd first taken note of the cosmetic changes along with her uncomfortable coils, she had assumed that the latter was something she could fix.

So far, it hadn't gotten any better.

She was  _panicking_  because it had been  _three_ _years_  and the burn of her chakra had not waned in the least. She was panicking because she knew that if she couldn't solve this problem as well she would be crippled. Even the slightest hesitation using her chakra in battle could mean death and that— even having suffered so many others— was unacceptable.

Had she been a person with less self-control, Junko would've pulled out her hair at her own stupidity. As it were, she only tightened her grip on the chains of the swing.

Intellectually, she was aware that so long as the pain never got any worse she would eventually be able to ignore it entirely. She  _knew_  that yet she was also certain that if she ever managed to burn out her reserves, she'd have to deal with this fresh hell all over again.

Junko made a point of pushing that maddening storm of thoughts to the back of her mind where she left all her unpleasant things to fester.

She swung in silence— her toes only barely brushing the dirt beneath her with each pass— kept her head down and eyes shaded with her hair in an attempt to block out the sun. Admittedly, she was also doing as a way to ignore the children that continually seemed to brush just close enough to sound like they were screaming in her ears.

Why had she even come to the park?

It was an idea she would never have entertained any other day and it wasn't as if she'd done it for any particular reason, so  _why_? There was a certain risk that came with doing something just because she could and she must have thought of that before making her final decision which implied that whatever factored into this decision was important enough for her to entirely disregard all of her paranoia from her first days outside the orphanage.

"Aiyana-chan?"

Junko slammed her feet into the ground, stopping the swing in one sharp movement.

Whoever this kid was, they were  _way_ too close and now she'd have to scare them off too lest she seems approachable— And who the hell was 'Ayana-chan' anyway? She turned her head, mouth opened in preparation, then paused.

It was Haruno- _fucking_ -Sakura.

 _Sakura_  gasped. "It  _is_ Aiyana!" The girl proceeded to plop into the swing on Junko's right. "I was really worried when you were gone and then more started going away right after you and even though Aizawa-san said you were all adopted I didn't think so and then I heard that—" Sakura finally paused and turn eyes to the ground.

Junko gaped at her and tried desperately to reign in the voice that was so much like the thirty-six-year-old man she'd been so long ago. "Why were  _you_  worried about me? We've never spoken before." Junko hadn't even known Sakura was  _in_  the orphanage.

Sakura turned towards Junko only slightly— at this point, Junko noted that Sakura's bangs still exposed her forehead and wondered at the state of Sakura's social life— before speaking again.

"Um... I guess I was really lonely? And I thought you were alone too so I thought we could be friends and then you were gone before I could try..." The pair sat in silence before Sakura suddenly sat up straight and turned completely to Junko.

"I'm Sakura. Haramura Sakura!"

_'What.'_

Junko hid her shock behind a smile. "Kishimoto Junko."

 _Haramura_ Sakura stared.

"Jun... ko? But you're Aiyana!" Sakura's face screwed up in concentration before she came to a conclusion. "You  _were_  adopted after all!"

Junko's smile became the smallest bit more genuine. She hated children but Sakura was a rare exception; she couldn't help adore the girl even if only the smallest bit.

And because of this vague sentimentality, Junko decided she wouldn't ruin Sakura's mood and only gave a confirming nod in response.

The pair settled into a companionable— if a bit one-sided— chatter, straying further from the topic of the orphanage. It didn't last long; eventually, a man— who Junko presumed was her  _father_ — called Sakura from a distance away. Sakura hopped off of her swing and waved at Junko as she made her way across the park. Junko returned the wave with a smile and wave of her own.

Once the pair was out of sight, Junko let her hand drop into her lap and giggled. She  _supposed_  a friendship with Sakura would be integral to bestowing upon the girl a set of skills that would have no place on a combat squad. Then being dropped onto Team 7 would be a breeze.

She whipped her head around, massaging the base of her neck.

_'Nothing but the park.'_

She grimaced.

* * *

Junko moved languidly throughout the streets of Konoha, letting her eyes wander as she pretended to take in the sights.

As much as she liked to ignore it, this was her first time being female and the timing of it was far from coincidental. It was likely that whatever entity had gifted her with these rebirths intended for her to completely replace Sakura in Team 7 with a certain goal in mind. Whatever this goal was likely depended on the manner in which the entity knew Junko would behave once this time came about or that said entity believed it could cow her into submission with a threat to her 'eternal' life.

Junko was certain that something or someone wanted  _something_  from her; she refused to believe that was reborn  _just because_. A single transmigration of her soul was 'unnatural' but plausible.

Transmigration across dimensions? Viable even if disturbing.

Transmigration across dimensions and then repeated within one? It was something she doubted would happen naturally and the closest comparison she could draw was Asura and Indra's own reincarnations. However, that had been caused by something like their willpower and the sheer force of their chakra; Junko was born into this world  _far before_  chakra was even something to be wielded. Even if you could disregard that, it wasn't as if she'd had the will to be reborn. She had been entirely fine with her initial death and every death after that.

She would've been happier if she'd just  _stayed_  dead.

But that was hardly important.

Perhaps, the Shinju— that accursed  _God Tree_ — had something to do with it? She had next to no idea what fell into the range of its abilities and she knew only vaguely of its desires. Perhaps it had known that the Juubi would fail in the reclamation of chakra— that was what it had been after, right?— and in its... understanding of this, drew a creature from beyond the veil believing that it would be instrumental in reclaiming this world?

 _'Ah. Is that the cause of Kaguya's madness? Had the Shinju taken root in her mind?'_ It would then make sense that she believed all chakra to be her own.

She doubted that the Shinju had a hand in her disturbingly large reserves; her working theory was that Yin and Yang were bound to a ten-part ratio— at the very least, 1:9 or 9:1. The main reason this was the first life in which she even came close to that was that she'd made a point of not touching her Yang and essentially rendering her coils dead. Now that she'd actually started training her chakra, her Yang was in a rush to meet up with the intangible mass of her Yin chakra. Yin chakra that grew with experience.

And who had more Yin than somebody who'd lived  _forever_?

The thought made her smile. Whatever it was that the Shinju— or whatever— wanted from her, if she was planning on doing it anyway, then she really didn't care.

If it was gonna  _force her_...

She could always just kill herself— how could she fight something that had just snatched her soul from death the way it had?

* * *

Junko let out a sigh as her chakra flooded her coils.

It was still an awful feeling— like an itch she'd never be able to scratch— and she still hated it but nature manipulation likely required chakra to be manipulated within coils. With that in mind, she couldn't continue channeling chakra as she had not  _only_ because of the future inconvenience related to ninjutsu but also because it was far more likely to draw the attention of undesirables.

Junko gathered her chakra and coerced into a slow whirlpool in her gut.

She thought back to the state of her body. Were nails— her  _claws_ — truly the result of her training? Was that something that could lead to that sort of transformation? She'd been willing to believe so for a while but it was wishful thinking. Perhaps the Kyūbi had something to do with it? In the past, the Kyūbi had never been the cause of her death nor in her general vicinity at the time of her rebirth. This time around it had been both and in response, her new body started to grow into some rather 'fox-like' characteristics...

Junko momentarily lost her hold on her chakra and let it cycle through her coils.

Her chakra control was certainly getting better. Far better should be at her age and with the size of her reserves. She suspected that they would only continue to grow so continual practice for control would likely be necessary. Eventually, she'd have to see if she was capable of doing that leaf-sticking nonsense and move on to the tree-walking exercise.

Junko focused her chakra into her limbs.

 _There_  was where her chakra felt the worst. The itch feeling reminiscent to worms crawling beneath her skin, simultaneously burrowing into muscle and opening holes in her skin and  _if she could_   _only pull them out—_

Her eyes snapped open and rolled from beneath the dumpster. Her arms trailed with blood where her nails had dug into flesh.

"Right, right— mustn't focus  _too_  much." She spoke breathily, turning her head from her wounds almost immediately. Such unsightly wounds always carried with them an uncomfortable pinching on her spine. Briskly, she made her way from the alley and into the night.

* * *

Junko stared at the bandages that covered her arms as she sat on the swing. The cuts ached beneath her bandages and were likely to scar once they healed. Fortunately, they hadn't been particularly deep but they were messy she'd done little more than disinfect them before covering her arms in bandages, so thickly that you couldn't see her blood through the wrappings.

If this was going to be repeated issue she'd need to at least have some bandages on hand before meditating or make a point of not channeling chakra into her arms while focusing on them so intently. Though, she doubted it would be truly problematic in a fight so it wasn't too high up on her list of priorities.

_'I'll have to invest in some longer sleeves, though.'_

Junko gripped the chains of her swing and let out a sigh.

"I'm  _bored_. Is Sakura coming any time soon?"  _'Poor, poor Sakura who will be pushed aside so I can have the spotlight.'_

She kicked off the ground and set to lazily swinging.

It was an annoyingly hot summer; if she decided to invest in long sleeves to cover up her bandages it'd have to be something light. She knew it wouldn't  _always_  be so hot in Hi no Kuni but she could deal handle the cold with nothing but her will. Heat led to sweat and she hated sweating.

She felt a tingling along her spine but made a point of ignoring it.

As Junko swung, she swept her gaze along what she could see of the park. The vast majority of the children congregated in small groups, some joining each to play larger games of 'Ninja'. Personally, she thought it was a stupid game and that any parent that allowed their children to play it was either a fool themselves or had fallen for all of the pro-Konoha propaganda.

She had to applaud the Sandaime; it was just like reading...

_'Ah. I forgot its name.'_

He'd certainly done a good job at hypnotizing his citizens. And even the shinobi who knew the 'truth' of the world were still so wholeheartedly loyal.

The tingling on her spine vanished.

Junko scowled.  _'I haven't even **done**  anything yet.' _She continued swinging in silence.

If Sakura didn't show up today, she'd have to come again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was short but I had to get something out. I'll try to start the next immediately. And maybe pump out another chapter of The Light.  
> Also, the "Implied/Referenced Pedophilia" tag I added is just that; implied or referenced. I'm not gonna sit here at my goddamned desk typing out _five-hundred fucking words of child-smut_ just to meet my goddamned word count.  
>  Hopefully.


	4. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me see if I can get this one out faster... Took me 'till August 15th to actually start writing this chapter.
> 
> And guess who lost 600 fucking words when ff.net went down on the 20th. This Guy!
> 
> And then it happened again on the 22nd and I'm screaming. I was fucking done with the chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: You know the drill, I'd have to catch the law's hands if I said I own Naruto so I don't.

Junko swayed on her swing, watching amusedly as Sakura did her very best to introduce her older brother.

Her brother— Haramura Akio, she'd managed to glean from Sakura's incoherent attempts at an introduction— bore an amused look of his own, even as he patted Sakura's head after she'd given up.

It was obvious that Sakura idolized her brother if the look on her face at his touch was any indication.

(Junko didn't quite understand that kind of familial bond but she made sure the smile never left her face. Though perhaps his affection bothered her the smallest bit.)

Haramura Akio looked to be about seventeen and had the kind of smile that spoke of endless joy and an equally light heart. His hair was a blue so deep that if you didn't look at it from a certain angle and in a certain light, you'd think it black. His eyes were a heavy sort of brown and so dark that one could almost miss the black on the edge of his irises— and again, there was a twitch at the back of Junko's mind at such familiar eyes— if they didn't pay attention. Aside from those features, he was irritatingly average. He had the same lean musculature that many male shinobi shared and looked to be of average height.

 _That_  was the most important fact; he was a  _shinobi_. He may have been wearing civilian clothing but Junko could see it in the way he moved, even with her lack of knowledge. Living in a ninja village for a few lifetimes made it a trifle to tell the difference.

"It's nice to meet you, Akio-san." This, Junko said in the lilting voice she'd only recently begun to use when speaking to adults. Many seemed to find it endearing but she couldn't tell exactly what Akio thought of it.

"Aa. It's pleasure to meet you too, little Junko-chan. My sister talks about you a lot." And there was a glint in his eye that Junko wished she hadn't seen, if only because it made her want to tear out his throat.

"Oh?" Her eyes shifted to Sakura who almost immediately turned her gaze downwards. A smile slowly spread across Junko's face. "I'm  _really_ glad you care about me so much, Hazuki-chan."

Sakura turned her head towards Junko, shocked enough that she didn't think— because even at this age Sakura was  _smart_ — and her mouth was already projecting her initial thoughts of "It's not like that!"

Had Sakura been older, Junko would've entertained the thought that perhaps the pink-haired doll believed her comment to have a romantic connotation but seeing as Sakura would be turning six in a few weeks, she pretended as if that thought simply hadn't crossed her mind and continued her light-hearted teasing of her one and only friend.

(And wasn't that such a sad thought?)

"So you  _don't_ care about me, Hazuki-chan?" Junko didn't care enough to bother faking hurt but the petulant frown that marred her face was real enough.

Of course, at this point Sakura—  _Haramura Sakura_ , Junko reminded herself and even in these last few months, she'd never gotten used to that— realized that Junko had essentially backed her into a corner and ended the conversation with crossed arms and a huff.

With her obligatory chat with Sakura finished, Junko finally allowed her crimson eyes to train themselves on Akio once more.

And  _of course_ , he was enjoying himself. So far as she could tell, his expression had never shifted from the easy-going amusement he'd been showing since Sakura had arrived with him  _attached to her fucking side_  and she really didn't understand how he could bear to do it. Children were annoying— and children you were related to, moreso— and cared more for their silly dalliances than anything that even resembled importance.

(And  _of course,_ Sakura was an exception. Sakura was simply  _amazing_. But as a sibling, Akio should hate her.)

But Junko did her best not to let any of her thoughts shine through her guise of a perfectly normal— because she was  _not_ disturbed in any way, shape, or form— child and aside from tightening her grip on the chains of her swing and the buildup of heat at the back of her skull, she was certain she succeeded. She met is his eyes in a manner that belied her irritation and when he cocked a brow at her she simply tilted her head in a bird-like indication of curiosity.

"'Hazuki-chan'?" And  _again_ , she heard that amusement in his voice and she was certain he was doing it on purpose.

She gave him a smile that was far less pleased than the one she'd given Sakura. "When I was in the orphanage my name was Aiyana. Once Sakura and I met outside the orphanage, she continued to call me 'Aiyana-chan'"— she ignored Sakura's protests of  _'No I didn't!'_  and  _'I stopped!'_ — "even after I told her my name was Junko. After that, I decided that— since we're  _friends_ — that she'd get a second name as well."

Akio took on a mock-contemplative look that likely would've fooled an actual child— and Junko suddenly found that she hated  _every_ face he made— into believing he was taking time to absorb their 'wisdom' but was really just hiding some more of that infernal amusement.

Gods, she hated him.

Finally coming to a conclusion, Akio ceased his mockery of intelligent thought and smiled at his sister. "Well, I think that was a great idea. Ne, Hazuki-chan?"

Sakura must've expected him to try calling her that because before he finishes speaking, she's already batting at him with an arm. "You can't call me that, Onii-chan!"

Akio adorned a look of hurt. "But  _she_  can? I thought I was your  _brother_ , Hazuki-chan—"

" _Stop!_ "

"— Don't you care about me?"

Sakura's protests came to a halt as she gaped at her brother. The pinkette's gaze went from Junko to Akio and back again before she huffed and turned away. "You two are exactly the same."

Junko was only vaguely aware of the smidge of hurt in Sakura's voice and was instead almost frothing at the mouth at what she'd said. There was  _nothing_ in this world that she would've liked to hear less than that and she  _knew_  that Akio was aware of that because as soon as those words had left Sakura's mouth, he had immediately turned to see what her reaction was.

That pressure at the back of her skull increased in intensity.

Junko let out 'hmph' before taking a second to admire her nails. "As if this old man could  _ever_ compare to me."

When Sakura fixed her with a glare, Junko did not flinch— because Sakura was a child and Junko would never bow to a child— and felt the smallest bit exasperated.

"Onii-chan isn't old."

Akio nodded his assent. "I've only recently turned seventeen so—"

"That sounds plenty old to me," Junko cuts in, almost sneering. She was so damned tired it wasn't even funny. She'd been perfectly content hanging around with Sakura but her brother irritated Junko to a degree that she'd always had trouble dealing with. The heat that had been flashing across her skin was steadily becoming like ice.

Sakura opened her mouth to say something but Junko was already hopping off of the swing.

"It's been a  _pleasure_  meeting you, Akio. See you some other time, Sakura," she muttered, already spinning on her heels and making her way to  _God knows where_  because outside of this park everything just blurred together and she just  _existed_.

(Wasn't this such a pathetic existence?)

* * *

Junko clenched her hand idly as she watched the Academy from her perch on a roof across the way. Though it wasn't a thought she was particularly fond of, being clawed had certainly made climbing easier— and despite the fact that she'd been working on her control, she wasn't entirely sure how to go about climbing something using only her chakra— so she supposed that the oddities of this form weren't all bad.

From where she was sat, it was a smidge more difficult than it oughta have been to sneak peeks at the classes within the Academy's walls. From what she could tell the awkwardness of the angle she was forced to look from was supposed to mild a deterrent to spying. Unfortunately, Junko was subpar at espionage to begin with so she ended up being unable to see anything besides what was right up against the windows. But as it turned out, that was all she needed.

Naruto— the social outcast he was— was sat right up against the window, doing his damndest to look as small and inconspicuous as humanly possible.

In truth, she hadn't expected him to be there; she'd only dropped by the Academy to see if she could pick up the Henge in her observations— she hadn't— and hadn't actually noticed him until it'd already been an hour of waiting.

He was... disturbingly unlike the image she'd held in her head.

While she  _had_  met him before, his presence was buried under thoughts of  _'If I screw up hear I'm dead'_. Seeing him now, without the weight of the so-called Shinobi no Kami's eyes on her, allowed her to really take in the boy's countenance. The Naruto of now was too afraid to stick out, likely for fear of the hatred towards him growing. From the way he seemed to shrink further into his seat periodically, it was obvious it wasn't quite working.

Ironically, if the Hokage had let Danzō have the boy, he'd probably have been better off.

Junko watched, vaguely interested, as parents slowly gathered outside the gates of the Academy. There were quite a few that appeared civilian and the women all behaved rather amiably towards each other, likely friends who'd enrolled their daughters in hopes of expunging the fantasy of being a kunoichi from their daughter's minds. It would be a punch to the gut when some of them found out their daughters were actually quite capable and intent on becoming kunoichi— or the village would refuse to let them be anything else.

This was an unlucky bunch; had they enrolled their daughter's in the coming semester, they'd have shared a class with Hyūga Neji and been distracted from actually honing any real skills.

Junko turned away from the growing crowd. There had been nobody of any  _real_  importance there, so far as she could see, so there was hardly any point in watching them any longer.

 _These_  were the insignificant beings that hated and feared a child. Granted, it was due to their hatred and fear of the thing that was sealed inside of him but it stupid nonetheless. What was more foolish than that was that Minato had actually believed they'd think of Naruto as a hero. It was a 'reasonable' wish, she supposed, but it was an idiot's wish. How could he be so naïve as to think they would so easily fall into line as if they were simply more shinobi to be ordered around?

As much as she hated the stupidity of the civilians, she would not blame them. Hell, if she'd decided to live as a civilian, she wouldn't have done anything about it herself. The world was simply full of stupid people who did stupid things for every conceivable reason and most of them actually thought it made sense.

(Junko fits into that category well.)

Soon enough, students began to trickle through the doors, the youngest being the most eager and leading the pack. Of course, there was Naruto who was pushed aside or given a wide berth— and there was certainly no in-between— by the kids who were making their way past him. Parents were giving him dirty looks that they probably thought were oh so subtle.

She wondered why the looks affected him at all. Surely he'd been treated like this for as long he could remember so wouldn't this seem to him like the natural state of things? Sure, there were the few that treated him kindly but Junko  _knew_  that the hatred and fear Naruto had to deal with on a daily basis was present in the vast majority of his interactions. The little acts of kindness that were Teuchi, Ayame, and the Hokage— she was pretty sure he hadn't met Iruka yet— shouldn't have mattered too much in the long run.

He probably just lacked the proper mindset.

Junko leaned back, legs dangling over the edge of the roof and supporting the rest of her body with her arms. "Well, it's not as if any of that matters; if these idiots knew the truth about Naruto, they'd all be playing it up and acting like they were his best damn friends."

"And what truth is that?"

Junko stiffened before taking what she hoped was a casual glance over her shoulder. When she saw the porcelain mask of an Anbu— she  _refused_  to take in the details because if it was Kakashi she would fucking  _scream_ — she released a drawn-out sigh and averted her eyes.

As fast as she could manage, she threw herself from the roof of the building and dropped like a stone.

Her landing was far from graceful but her legs weren't broken so went into a full sprint.

' _Get yourself inside a crowd as quickly as possible; they won't risk grabbing a child in the middle of a throng of civilians._ ' The thought passed quickly but it made enough sense that Junko replotted her course of mad sprinting into something more resembling a planned escape.

Half a second later, there was a pulse of chakra at the base of her neck and she was unconscious.

* * *

Junko opened her eyes slowly, feeling disturbingly well-rested. When the memory of her capture resurfaced, instead of hissing like an irritated cat, she stood silently and did her best to take in her surroundings.

Her prison was a cell made from nothing but stone and lacked even a bed. It was empty of everything but herself. When she turned attention to her own body, she was dismayed to find herself stripped bare with ink dancing across her body, starting from her arms— she noted that they'd even removed the bandages that she'd grown passively fond of— and circling around her heart. She knew next to nothing about seals but she knew without a doubt that at least one feature of this seal was to kill her. Her wrists were bound together by shackles— and of course, those were covered in seals as well— and connected to the wall by a depressingly short chain.

She rested her forehead against the stone of her cell and exhaled before pulling her head back and slamming it into the wall.

" _Idiot_ ," she growled and slammed her head into the rock again, rattling her brain. " _Fucking idiot._ "


	5. Reimagine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something resembling monthly updates, but I already missed September [and October(and November/December)] and now I feel bad. I kept saying, "It's gonna be out this month" and then I never got past two-hundred thirty words.
> 
> Disclaimer: Do I really have to say this every time?
> 
> ...
> 
> Yeah, I don't own Naruto. Happy?

Morino Ibiki was a hardass. At least, that's what a good portion of the shinobi working under him would say.

He wouldn't disagree but being what they all called a 'hardass', came with the territory— said territory being his position in the Torture and Interrogation department— because  _somebody_  needed to make sure the rest had their shit together.

(Not that he didn't trust them— a lot of these people, he'd trust with his life.)

Ibiki knew the sacrifices that had to be made for the village intimately. He'd sacrificed too much to  _not_  know what was required of him. He knew what he had to do so he made sure it was done and he made sure it was done  _right_. He could never claim he knew best— that's why they were a goddamned  _team_ — but Ibiki knew his job like it was a part of him.

In all the most important ways, it was.

As an interrogator, it was a reasonable expectation that one would come across a few 'tough' cases— tougher than standard, anyway. Somehow, this  _kid_  fell into that category.

When Ibiki had heard that two ANBU operatives had all but materialized in one of the lower levels, one demanding a cell and the other leaving as quickly as he'd come, he hadn't been particularly worried. It was a rare occurrence when ANBU brought particularly hardy individuals— individuals who would be a wealth of information and well worth the risk— into custody. So he hadn't been worried, even if he was vaguely irritated that he'd had to hear the information from a Chūnin lackey that should've gotten those details long after Ibiki himself had. Regardless, he had made his way to the holding cells to receive the operative's report.

And then they'd told him about this  _kid_.

Even if he didn't take into account the secret that the girl supposedly knew— and Tori hadn't specified  _which_  secret it was the girl knew— things were looking troubling already.

Given the exact words Tori had reported the girl had said though, it wasn't all that difficult to determine which secret the girl had been referring to.

Standard measures, at the very least, were the slow starving of their prisoner and sleep deprivation. Of course, given the nature of things, they couldn't twiddle their thumbs for too long, if there was a leak of information then they needed to break their prisoner quickly.

Sleep deprivation had proved to be unnecessary. For some reason, the prisoner was struggling to sleep regardless. Ibiki suspected that it was due to some adverse effect of choking out the chakra of a child but at the moment, that was irrelevant. Time wasn't exactly against them but it wasn't on their side either. No child of this kid's age, even one trained to be a spy, could handle deprivation for long before they were too weak to answer questions.

So here Ibiki stood, nineteen days later, at the beginnings of an interrogation.

* * *

Junko had calmed down considerably since her awakening in a cell that she assumed to be somewhere in Torture and Interrogation.

Sure, she'd said something that hinted at a forbidden knowledge, but there was  _no way_  they knew exactly which secret she was talking about. If she was to be blessed with any sort of luck, the ANBU who'd taken her wouldn't actually be aware that Naruto was Namikaze Minato's son and assumed that she'd been referring to his status as a Jinchūriki.

That was  _then_. Now, sat in the center of a poorly lit room and strapped to a steel chair, she remembered exactly where she was being held.

This was  _Torture and Interrogation_. They wouldn't let her sit there and lie— they would tear the answers from her skull if they needed to.

Before her thoughts could spiral further downwards, her interrogator entered the room, pulling a chair in behind them. Junko was only partially surprised that her interrogator was a woman she didn't recognize— the nondescript sort with dark hair and dark eyes— rather than Ibiki himself.

The woman took a seat and only then did Junko notice the smile on her interrogator's face.

"Hello, dear. I'm going to ask you a few questions; is that alright?"

Junko blinked.

This woman was speaking to her as if she wasn't strapped to a chair in a room that was probably  _tailor-made_  for interrogation.

Junko nodded stiffly and her interrogator's smile grew.

"Great! Now then, may I have your name?"

Junko relaxed the slightest bit. She could handle this; it was nothing but a few questions. She could handle it.

_'Don't delude yourself, little fool.'_

"Kishimoto Junko." She spoke in a bright and lilting tone, made heavy by apprehension.

Something glimmered in the eyes of the woman but her smile was unchanging.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Junko-chan. I'm Noriko— no surname."

The two sat in silence and stared at each other. It was another moment before Junko realized she was meant to reply.

Giving the best wave she could with her wrists strapped down, Junko nodded. "Hello."

That seemed to satisfy the woman—  _Noriko_ , she amended— and Junko's eyes were drawn to the walls. Weren't there normally one-way mirrors in this kind of situation?

"Any family?"

"None."

"Oh? Then where are you staying? At the orphanage?"

"Uh... I guess I'm just around. I mean, I try to avoid sleeping in the alleyways by restaurants because the places always attract insects and I really don't want to catch some sort of disease. The akasen too— I have yet to have a pleasant experience in that area."

At this point, Noriko had leaned forward, the curiosity in her eyes apparent.

"And why did you leave the orphanage? Surely you would have had an easier time of things if you'd just stayed."

Junko frowned.

"Kids were disappearing— best I leave before I did too, right?" The statement was true but only by the notional point that— had she been in the orphanage when children started going missing— she would've left just as she had anyway.

Just because she was worried didn't mean she'd just give them answers. She'd sooner die than bend over out of  _fear_  of all things.

Noriko gave a sage nod before standing. "Well, I suppose we're done for today." She reached forward and mussed Junko's hair— Junko did her best to fight back a snarl at the touch— before turning towards the door.

Junko was still strapped to the chair.

"O-Oi! Wait for a second, Noriko-san!" The interrogator turned towards Junko, her dark hair obscuring one eye. "Shouldn't I be moved back to my cell? Ya know, since we're done and all?"

The smile hadn't left Noriko's face but it had become relaxed to a degree. It was on the border between nonchalant and smug— it had long since lost whatever note of kindness she'd seen in it— and Junko wasn't sure which was the more appealing option.

"Why? You haven't exactly given me anything I can work with; it's only natural that we continue the interrogation another time."

Junko grit her teeth, both to stop from outright screaming at the woman and to suppress the feeling of an approaching headache.

"It's  _standard practice_ , isn't it!? And how I meant to sleep here, tied to chair?" Not that she'd be able to get any sleep regardless. "It's not as if I haven't been answering questions; I've been perfectly compliant!"

There was a pause before Noriko sighed. "Alright, just answer one alright? Then I'll have you moved back to your cell."

Junko nodded quickly. "Let's do it then!"

The smile on Noriko's face hadn't moved an inch but she may as well have been faceless in that next moment.

"Tell me exactly what you know about Uzumaki Naruto."

Junko opened her mouth in preparation to respond.

Then she froze, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she averted her eyes.

Noriko simply nodded. "Exactly."

She was gone before Junko could be bothered to answer her— the door slamming shut with a sickening finality.

Then the light flickered before dying out.

 _'You've been duped, foolish girl~'_ , the voice sang. Unfortunately, it was right. Junko wasn't sure exactly what happened but she'd been manipulated or tested, or  _something_  and her answers had been found lacking.

_'Careless as you are, it was expected, little girl.'_

"Just shut up." She had it all under control. Everything.

She wouldn't let  _anybody_  stop her. Not even some voice in her own head.

* * *

"What have you figured out?"

Noriko shifted, brushing imaginary dirt from her clothes before speaking. "Nothing regarding exactly what it is she knows but I have found out a bit about the prisoner herself, Morino-san."

Ibiki let out a weary sigh. "Alright. What do you have?"

"To begin, the prisoner was on edge before I'd entered the room and made no attempt to hide her unease. It wasn't until I began speaking that she showed any signs of loosening up; however, she remained quite tense and exhibited some confusion. Likely, she had some expectations as to what would happen and when I failed to meet them lost whatever sort of plan she may have had."

Noriko paused to clear her throat before continuing. "The interrogation revealed a deeply set pragmatism as once it was clear I didn't pose an immediate threat, the prisoner sought to make things run as smoothly as possible— without divulging too much information— so as not to complicate issues further. Her orphanage records regarded her as 'Aiyana', however, she introduced herself as 'Kishimoto Junko'."

"The former suggests a morality not so much rooted in the right or wrong of things but rather the convenience and/or consequences of her actions. The latter suggests a sort of independence that wouldn't be found in children. Normally a child of her age— a runaway, I might add— wouldn't so casually throw away their name the way she has. Not only that but she also claimed a surname for herself. So far, we have a morality developed far beyond that of any ordinary child and a sense of independence that is equally so."

She let that hang in the air as Ibiki's eyes bore into her own.

"And what have you concluded, Noriko?"

She rubbed her arm nervously. "Well, I've come to  _two_  conclusions. Either we're dealing with a child genius o-or—" she averted her gaze, her grip on her arm tightening. "— we aren't exactly dealing with... um, a-a  _child_."

Noriko could feel Ibiki's stare as the air grew heavy around them.

The silence grew until she heard Ibiki recline heavily in his chair and mutter to himself.

It was probably for the best that she didn't know exactly what it was he was saying.

* * *

The light flickered back on barely a second before the door opened and Junko lifted her head lazily.

Without access to the sun or to a clock, it was impossible for her to tell how long it had been since she'd last seen her interrogator. Any interaction was better than sitting in silence. Though, the look on Noriko's face hinted that this wasn't exactly going to be pleasant.

"Are you ready to speak today, Junko-chan?"

"No."

Noriko nodded before leaving the room.

The light turned off.

Junko relaxed.

* * *

The door opened.

The light turned on.

Junko looked towards the door lazily, ignoring her growing headache.

"Are you ready today, Junko-chan?"

"No."

The door closed and the light vanished.

Junko's headache only worsened.

* * *

The door opened.

The light turned on.

Junko only grimaced as the throbbing in her skull grew heavier.

"Are you—"

" _No._ "

The door closed and the light vanished.

She felt like hell.

* * *

The door opened slowly but the light came back the same as it always had.

Junko kept her eyes squeezed shut even as she heard Noriko's footsteps approach once more.

"Junko-chan."

Through the incessant burning in her skull, Junko dully noted the change in verbiage.

She couldn't count how many times Noriko had made these visits but the woman had always started her questions off the same way: 'Are you ready?'

"Are you willing to speak today?"

"No."

And this was the part where Noriko would leave her until next time. _Except_ —

Noriko sighed. After a brief pause, Junko heard a set of footsteps entering the room.

She opened her eyes— ignoring the sting that the light brought— and wasn't entirely surprised by what she saw.

Not to say that she wasn't upset by the pale blonde hair and blue eyes without pupils. The man was no Yamanaka Inoichi but he was certainly a Yamanaka all the same.

"You may proceed as ordered, Yamanaka-san."

Noriko stepped back as the Yamanaka advanced and Junko stiffened.

"Oi, wait. I-I'll talk, alright?"

The Yamanaka gave Noriko a glance. She shook her head.

The Yamanaka continued his advance.

_'And now we'll be discovered, stubborn girl.'_

By now, the Yamanaka's hands were placed on the sides of her head, and the pain grew worse.

"I fucking said  _wait_!"

"Keep going, Yamanaka-san."

Junko could feel the pressure of chakra against her skull—

Then the light flickered.

* * *

Noriko stared implacably at the snarling girl strapped to the chair in front of her.

Watching the girl straining against her bonds, pupils blown impossibly wide until her irises were rings of red around pools of black, Noriko felt an odd sort of detachment.

The girl's teeth were impossibly sharp and here nail doubly so, giving her the appearance of a caged animal. Along with the raging storm of killing intent, it made for an odd picture.

She made a point of ignoring the incapacitated form of the Yamanaka crumpled on the floor.

She took a seat in her chair and stared until the killing intent abated and the girl stopped pulling against her bonds.

The girl was breathing heavily but she had calmed down considerably.

"Junko."

The girl met her eyes shakily.

"You said you would speak, yes?" She didn't bother giving the girl time to respond. "Then speak."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really sat on my ass for four months and did nothing. I feel like a real mongaloid, guys.
> 
> But uh, get ready for the next chapter. Junko does some stupid things. Stupider things.


	6. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to be more frequent with my updates. After this, I'll do an update for either The Light or Choking. Regardless of which one I end up updating, the next update will have to be To Burn Alive. I have some ideas for a Highschool DxD fanfic as well as a Re:Zero fic but the details are... iffy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have a headache. I own the headache. I do not own Naruto.

"Morino-san."

Ibiki could not claim he knew Noriko well— that would imply a sort of closeness between the two that did not exist— but with his expertise, it was not particularly difficult to figure her out.

So when he heard the notes of unease in her voice, he was not at all surprised when he looked up and she failed to meet his eyes. Still, he would not press for details; she always told him regardless.

"Report, Noriko." She straightened up noticeably, finally looking in his direction— though not quite  _at_  him.

"The prisoner is ready and willing to speak, Morino-san. However, they request your presence before they begin."

Ibiki blinked. He could certainly  _guess_  what the reason was but it always paid to be certain...

"Were you given a reason as to why?"

"The prisoner stated that they were uncertain if I had the necessary clearance for such information and that— of the entire division— they were only certain that you did." Noriko blinked before her gaze turned questioningly to Ibiki's own. "Though, I suppose I do have the necessary clearance, correct? You wouldn't have allowed me to handle this otherwise."

Ibiki simply nodded as he stood from his seat. Noriko did have the clearance but the kid must have been aware that the secret wasn't one that ought to be spread around.

Still, it gave him a bit of insight. If the kid was indeed a spy— though that was beginning to seem increasingly unlikely— then it was probable that she only had knowledge of the key figures rather than trying to find information on everybody with a bit of skill.

Ibiki had only just passed Noriko on his way out when another thought came to his head.

"And mind-walking? Was it necessary to threaten the prisoner with that?"

In his peripheral vision, he caught Noriko's flinch. With a raised eyebrow he turned to look at her. She shuffled awkwardly, avoiding his gaze once again.

"Mind-walking i-is...  _suboptimal_." She spoke quietly before continuing in a tone that bordered on a whisper, "Yamanaka Inori is c-currently in the infirmary."

The words hung in the air between them.

"What  _the hell_  happened?"

Ibiki was not one for poetics but seeing Noriko shrink the way she did was comparable to a flower wilting under sweltering heat.

"I-I don't know, Morino-san."

He scoffed but did not press any further.

"Let's get moving then; we're about to find out."

* * *

Noriko had moved the prisoner to a standard interrogation room before she had reported to Ibiki and it saved the pair a bit of time.

Through the one-way mirror, he could also tell that Noriko had dressed the prisoner as well and had probably taken far more time than necessary putting the prisoner in the ill-fitting garb before reporting to him.

"You'll observe from here, Noriko." She spared him nothing but a nod as she prepared her notepad.

He stepped into the room, slamming the door heavily behind him. The prisoner's eyes shot to him and he caught a glimpse of irritation before the girl's shoulders relaxed, her eyes turning downwards once more.

Ibiki was made distinctly aware of how thin the kid was as he took his seat across the table. She was clothed in a shirt that obviously far too large for her as it hung off one shoulder, making it all too easy to see how bones seemed to protrude from her flesh.

Ibiki recalled that Inoichi had a daughter around this girl's age and was vaguely grateful that it had not been necessary to bring him in.

Ibiki leaned forward steepling his together just below his nose.

"Start talking."

The girl looked up at him before slouching back in her chair.

Ibiki was not foolish enough to disregard the fact that the girl appeared so nonchalant even with her hands chained to the table between them but that was neither here nor there.

(He was not foolish enough to believe that nonchalance was entirely  _fake_  either.)

"Start me off with questions. I don't really know what you want me to say and I'm sure you have plenty more questions so..."

Ibiki snorted, leaning back in his own chair. He would get the answers either way.

"Fine. Why were you observing the academy classes the day you were brought in?"

The girl cleared her throat audibly. "I was trying to learn the Henge. My appearance isn't exactly conspicuous and I  _was_ trying to be incognito."

"And I take it you didn't learn it?"

She scoffed. "Got it in one."

Ibiki held back a sigh. If he did not know better, he would almost call this  _relaxing_.

"Your goals. What are you hoping to achieve here?"

"Ah, well—" she yawned. "Well, I was hoping to join the academy and get myself on Naruto's Genin team. Can't be a team more fun than the jinchūriki's after all, right?"

Ibiki raised an eyebrow. "You know the boy's joined early; the chances you'll make it onto his team are slim-to-none."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'd agree with you, except that it's pretty obvious that Hiruzen has a pretty big soft spot for the kid. Otherwise, I imagine he wouldn't have attended the academy at all and would instead be trained by a number of Jōnin in all manners of skills until he was a veritable  _maelstrom_  on the battlefield. No. I imagine that Hiruzen is the kind of person who'd intentionally hold Naruto back, saying 'we are no longer in a time of war' and 'he deserves the chance to be a child'. That way, Naruto could be on a team with his peers instead of made to be the 'paragon of shinobi' or some nonsense like that."

Ibiki was mildly shocked by the assumptions the girl had made. Moreso because Hokage-sama had used the point that they were no longer in a war at a council meeting regarding the future of the jinchūriki. This made for as good a transition as he'd get into more important matters.

"What do you know about Uzumaki Naruto?"

"Only the important stuff, right?" He heard the girl mutter before speaking up. "He's the jinchūriki of the Kyūbi no Yōko as well as Namikaze Minato's son."

Ibiki nodded. He had suspected that she knew about the boy's relation to the Yondaime and it was only reasonable that she knew the former if she was aware of the latter.

"And how did you come across this information?"

She seemed to contemplate for a period and Ibiki watched silently as her gaze traveled downwards, her expression morphing into a scowl. It lasted only a moment before she sighed and met his eyes again.

"I knew his parents. Minato only in passing a but I was— I  _suppose_ — close with Kushina when she was younger." The girl's lips parted in a grin. "That and I'm not an idiot."

Ibiki stared and could not exactly keep himself from asking his next question.

"How old are you?"

"No idea, next question,  _please_ ," the girl replied in a saccharine tone.

He was ready to force the issue but that answer on its own was telling. While entirely possible that the girl had been lying about personally knowing the Yondaime and Uzumaki Kushina personally, the urgency at which she had brushed aside the question of her age pointed to the idea that she  _was_ , in fact, older than she appeared.

"And who exactly was Kushina?"

The girl rolled her eyes and gave him a look that implied she had thought far better of him.

He ignored it.

"Uzumaki Kushina was a girl that got really angry if you called her 'tomato-head' or something like that. She was  _also_ the former jinchūriki of the Kybi. The jinchūriki before her was—" She frowned. "—Wait, she was kept a secret right? Damn, you probably—  _fuck_. Kushina was meant to be a secret too, huh? I forgot about that. No harm now, I guess. The first jinchūriki of the Kyūbi was the Shodaime Hokage's wife— Senju Mito, née Uzumaki. Not that she ever managed to actually control his chakra."

Ibiki blinked. Kushina was indeed meant to be a secret and the only reason  _he_  had access to the information was because of his position. He had  _speculated_ about Senju Mito but had eventually decided it was unimportant because she was  _long_  dead.

He could not quite hold back his sigh this time.

"And how have you come across this information?"

The girl's expression was suddenly and distinctly nervous before she cleared her throat, staring him in the eyes.

(He could hardly call the look she gave him determined; even more so when he could see the touch of boredom underneath it all.)

"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Kishimoto Junko— the Reibi no Yūrei."

* * *

Hiruzen read the transcript wearily, again and again, even as Morino Ibiki waited patiently on the other side of his desk. He dragged heavily from his pipe as he set down the transcript.

_'The Reibi no Yūrei'_ , he thought grimly.

"And you're certain of this, Ibiki?" While the silencing seals were up, they shouldn't have had a reason to fear speaking plainly, however with something of this magnitude they couldn't risk not being too careful.

"About as certain as I possibly could be, given the circumstances," Ibiki replied, easily sounding as tired as Hiruzen felt at the moment.

And that's certainly the crux of all of this. Any other transcript that needed to be brought to Hiruzen himself was thick as a book, Ibiki— or whichever other interrogator handled the matter— repeating questions over and over, searching for discrepancies and contradictions in the words of their prisoner. Even then, the observer would leave markers detailing the more salient points.

_This_  was two sheets of paper, that held all the information of five minutes worth of interrogation, and Ibiki had handed it to him as if he'd been tasked to scale a cliff with naught but his index finger and thumb.

"Is there anything, in particular, I should be worried about?"  _Do we have to worry about the Kyūbi being released?_

"No. It was made rather clear that our prisoner desired little, despite a few contradictory statements."

Hiruzen's eyes flickered over a particularly unnerving piece of the transcript, likely the exact statement Ibiki was referring to.

_[00:03:47] KJ: "I am old. Older than the other nine Bijū, older than everything bar the world itself. Is it not natural I find myself drawn to the only things that close to my age— drawn to the eldest of their ilk?" [KJ pauses. Their expression is irritated.] "I was once human, [refers to INT]. They, at least, are a constant in this world."_

Even without hearing the words himself, Hiruzen could  _feel_  the insouciance the prisoner had been directing at Ibiki at that moment. These were not the words that followed someone bearing sorrow on their shoulders; they were the words of a silver tongue excusing a decision that had been made in the heat of the moment and not truly caring whether they were believed because the decision had been made and there was  _nothing_  you could to do about it.

Still...

"I believe that I will have to visit this prisoner myself." He read over the last line of transcript once more before he stood, the silencing seals unraveling. He hardly needed to do so, but it never hurt to double-check.

He handed the transcript back to Ibiki and the two stepped out of the office.

_[00:04:53] KJ: "As my first act of goodwill, I'll tell you this; [refers to Malice] is far more clever than you give him credit for. Had the village not been troubling him as it was, he'd have left. He knew exactly what [refers to Orenji] would do if he stayed and probably would've killed [refers to Kusari] before leaving. So I'm letting so you can be certain; [refers to Malice] was most definitely controlled [refers to Red Zone]. There."_

_[00:05:09] END INTERROGATION_

* * *

Akio pushes Sakura on the swing and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew by the way she was silently observing the park that she was frowning.

" _Sakura-chan_ ," he doesn't whine because whining is what  _children_  do. "Why do you keep dragging me out here?"

He wants to stop pushing her so they can have a proper conversation but he knows that if he stops Sakura will focus her ire entirely on him, so he keeps pushing.

While Sakura is his adorable, little sister, Angry Sakura— while still little— is decidedly less adorable.

"I'm waiting for Aiyana-chan," she replied simply as if  _that_  answered his question.

He wanted to laugh because she was indeed calling Junko 'Aiyana-chan' but he wouldn't be able to see the adorable way Junko bared her teeth at him like a little kitten, seeing as she wasn't here. That, and he had no intention to anger Sakura further.

"Mmhmm, but why am I here?" He almost laughed again when she stiffened and knew that had she not been swinging, she would've turned and given him her nastiest glare.

"You probably scared her away, Onii-chan." He could hear the petulance in her voice despite the constant fluctuations of her tone and was certain more than ever that talking while she swung was fairly stupid. "I need you here so that you two can apologize to each other. You were really mean, the both of you."

He was about to respond that it had been a bit more than a month and if Aiyana-Junko did ever come back it probably wouldn't too soon— and that it had been the girl who was rude and not him— and then he was interrupted.

"Hazuki-chan!"

Junko's voice was loud enough to drown out the sound of children playing in the afternoon and Akio could see that the girl didn't care about the attention she'd drawn, her green locks fluttering as jogged over to him and his sister.

Sakura had practically leapt from her swing as Aiyana-Junko got closer and Akio was left to make sure the seat didn't nail him in the shins.

"Ai— _Junko_ -chan! Where have you been?" Sakura wrapped her arms around the other girl who returned the gesture with just as much heart.

"Noriko-san said we were moving so I had to help her out, ya know?" Junko replied with a smile that bordered on smirking and was endlessly satisfied.

Sakura's eyes widened. "Is she the one who adopted you?"

Junko blinked, her expression suddenly looked extraordinarily tired. "Mmhmm."

Akio raised an eyebrow. Personally, he thought Junko always looked a bit under the weather— or at least she had the last and  _only_  time he'd seen her— she looked like she'd been on the wrong end of a particularly taxing fight.

Sakura must've picked up on it too— but interpreted it the entirely wrong way— because she leaned in and whispered, "Blink twice if you need help, Junko-chan."

Junko blinked and she gave them both a questioningly look before she suddenly came to a realization.

Then she laughed.

Well, no. To say she laughed would be downplaying it. The girl threw head back and practically  _howled_  and when she was done with that, she was clutching at her sides so desperately it looked like she may as well be dying. Not to mention all the attention she was drawing from parents and children alike.

"Junko-chan."

The trio looked up— Junko, disturbingly so, as if nothing had happened but the smile was still plastered on her face.

Akio met the eyes of a woman with a kind smile and his initial thought was that she was  _abnormally_  drab. Then he caught sight of her dark uniform and noticed that her smile was also  _quite_  artificial because that was Torture and Interrogation's uniform.

Junko clapped Sakura on the back before running off. "Bye-bye, Hazuki-chan!"

Akio felt a solemn weight settle in his stomach as he watched to the two leave.

"Drat."

Akio's eyes went to Sakura who was frowning into the distance.

"What is it?"

She looked up at him, pouting. "I didn't get the chance to make you two apologize."

He snorted.

Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malice, Kusari, Orenji, and Red Zone are obviously coded phrases. I imagine, for any shinobi, that they aren't particularly difficult to figure out if you already know that information. But yeah.
> 
> Also, this is probably my fastest update ever.
> 
> Also, I'm finally going to commission that cover art I talked about ages ago. It's happening. Maybe.


End file.
